


i will drift to you (if you make yourself shake fast enough)

by cherryonbottom



Series: cookies [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Belly Kink, Curses, Feeding Kink, M/M, Weight Gain, some lowkey hair-pulling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 15:11:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16088657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryonbottom/pseuds/cherryonbottom
Summary: It's completely Joe's fault, okay, and even though everyone knows better than to leave Pete alone in a house with cursed cookies, things work out pretty well in the end.





	i will drift to you (if you make yourself shake fast enough)

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to HighkeyRedacted and VanillaIcing for being terrible influences! this is all your fault! love y'all!
> 
> like always, my tumblr is @stuffedwentz if you wanna talk about some good ol Big Fob!
> 
> i'm so sorry, uhhhh enjoy?

The thing is, it’s not Patrick’s fault that he forgets Pete’s coming over. It’s  _ Joe’s  _ fault, okay, because he was the one that happened to be riding Patrick last night when Pete texted them both to say he was still on his way. And then  _ Joe  _ decided to just go right to sleep when they were done instead of checking his phone so of course Patrick did the same, and then  _ Joe  _ decided that he and Patrick should go shopping for some much needed new clothes right when they woke up this morning.

So, clearly, it’s totally Joe’s fault that they’re now standing in the plus-size section of Target while Pete is apparently in Patrick’s apartment.

_ hey got 2 ur place, used the spare key bc no1 answered. where r u?  _

“Oh my god,” Patrick says, holding his phone up so Joe can see. “Pete’s here. I totally forgot he was coming, shit, we should - “

“Yeah, we should probably head back there,” Joe finishes. There’s a weird look in his eyes, equal parts nervous and something else Patrick can’t place but thinks he understands.

“Yeah, yeah. Um. Yeah.” Patrick gives up on speaking as he and Joe check out and head back out to the car. His mind is whirring, because - well. Patrick knows that people are eventually gonna  _ see him,  _ and he knows that these people are going to include Pete, he just hasn’t realized how fucking hot just thinking about that is. 

“Do you think he’s gonna, um, notice?” Patrick asks as he buckles his seatbelt, still not used to how much further he has to pull it for it to fit. (It’s a dumb question, because there’s no fucking way Pete won’t notice. Their shopping expedition this morning revealed that Patrick’s gone from a large to XXL, and Joe’s only one size behind - that’s not a change you can just hide.)

Joe casts Patrick a glance as he pulls out of the mall parking lot. “Do you want him to?”

“I, um. I. Yeah. I kinda really do.”

“Well, uh,” Joe manages, “I’m pretty sure he’s gonna notice.”

“That’s, um, nice. Nice.” Patrick can’t deny that he’s a little nervous, because what if Pete flips his shit about the band’s image or something? But then again, it’s  _ Pete _ , and he’s an asshole, yeah, but not like that.

Joe parks behind Patrick’s apartment building a moment later, and he smirks a little at Patrick as they walk inside and get in the elevator.

“We might need to start riding separately,” Joe says in a half-joking voice, pointing to the weight limit sign posted above the buttons for each floor.

“Mhmm,” Patrick replies, rolling his eyes. It’s obviously not true, but he can’t help but shiver a little nonetheless.

The elevator  _ dings!  _ to a stop, and then it’s only a second before Patrick’s opening his apartment door.

Patrick and Joe are greeted by the sound of  _ Terminator  _ playing way too loudly in the living room. Neither of them seem to want to be the first one to speak, so they remain almost dead silent until Joe steps into the kitchen, peeks into the living room, and lets out a mixture of a sharp inhale and an undignified squeak. 

“Um,” he whispers. “Uh.  _ Uh.  _ Patrick?”

“What?” Patrick asks, stepping up behind Joe as he drops the Target bags on the counter. “Is everyth- oh,  _ fuck. _ ”

Pete is sitting in the living room watching  _ Terminator _ , which shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary - except there’s an all-too familiar box sitting next to him on the couch.

“He’s fucking-” Patrick attempts, “Joe, Pete’s. Um.”

“He’s,” Joe repeats. “We should, uh, we. Oh my god.”

Completely oblivious to everything going on in the next room, Pete reaches for another cookie, and  _ oh, god.  _ The semi Patrick’s had since Target is, ah, no longer a semi.

Joe’s holding onto Patrick’s arm so tightly that he’s probably going to leave bruises, and he only holds on tighter as they both watch Pete’s jawline soften almost to the point of disappearing and his stomach push out even further than it already has.

“Holy shit,” Patrick says, and he’s not grinding on Joe, okay, but then again, he’s also not  _ not  _ grinding on Joe. It’s fine.

“We need to - “ Joe pauses to think before he pretty much yanks Patrick over to the other side of the fridge and out of view of the living room. “We need to, like, we should say something. He clearly doesn’t know, so we gotta stop him.”

“I mean… yeah, but do we really  _ want  _ to stop him?”

Joe freezes. “What do you mean?”   


“Joe. Seriously. I know you’ve kinda wanted to fuck Pete for years, and I know that you  _ really  _ want to fuck him now. And I’m, uh, I’m clearly on that same exact page. So, like, do we really have to  _ stop  _ him?”   


“You’re - I - well. Fuck. I guess we can just go see what happens.”

Patrick nods. “Yeah. Let’s just, like, we can pretend that we just got home.”

“Right, right, good plan.” Joe takes a deep breath and steps away from the fridge. “Pete?” he calls. “Dude, turn that shit down!”

“Oh, hey!” Pete says. He pauses the movie and turns slightly to face Patrick and Joe, crumbs all around his mouth, and he still hasn’t fucking noticed. “Where were you guys? I got here maybe an hour or so ago, and I hope you don’t mind but I had a few of these cookies, and-“   
  
And Pete waves an arm towards the cookie box, and his shirt looks like it’s barely holding together, and Patrick catches himself holding his breath as Pete’s shirt fucking rips.    
  
“Um,” Joe blurts. “Pete, your shirt, uh.”   
  
Of course, Pete’s already seen his shirt, and his eyes are wide as he finally, looks at himself - his stomach hanging over the straining button of his jeans and resting on his thighs, his thick arms, his chubby hands and fingers. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Fuck,” he says.    
  
Patrick doesn’t know if he’s about to come in his pants or just spontaneously combust, but both of those feel like pretty good options right now. “It’s, um, the cookies? They kind of, like, they do. That.”   
  
“They....” Pete trails off as his eyes focus on Patrick for the first time all day. “Holy shit. You ate some too, didn’t you?”   
  
“Well, yeah, I didn’t know at first, and then Joe came over the next day, and um. Yeah.” (Patrick needs to shut the fuck up, Jesus Christ, Pete does not need to fucking know that most of the weight Patrick’s gained was 100% intentional.)   
  
“Yeah,” Joe adds helpfully. 

Pete narrows his eyes and looks back and forth between Joe and Patrick a couple of times, like he knows they’re leaving something out. “Wait,” he says suddenly. Pete sits forward on the couch, and Patrick has to fight to not obviously stare at the way his belly jiggles a little. “Wait, if Joe came over the day after you ate the cookies, and he’s… well. I’ve seen you in that shirt before, dude, and it was  _ not  _ that tight two weeks ago. So I’m just gonna go out on a limb here and say that I’m confused as fuck.”

Patrick and Joe exchange a capital-l Look that holds an entire conversation along the lines of  _ shit fuck I think we have to tell him, also I’m very hard right now.  _

“Well,” Patrick finally says, “it’s possible that some of this was kinda…”

“On purpose,” Joe provides as Patrick trails off. “We, uh, it’s nice.”

This declaration is followed by one of the longest, most tense silences Patrick’s ever experienced. After what seems like a solid few millenia (otherwise known as less than a minute), Pete coughs a little and says, “I’ve gotta say, that makes me feel so much fucking better about how hard I am right now.”

Joe shoots Patrick another Look, this time one that says, _I’m either about to burst out laughing or suggest a threesome and I don’t know which one, send help._ __  
  
_Good luck?_ Patrick tries to say.    
  
He’s not sure how much Joe understands, though, because a second later, Joe’s saying, “We could always, like, help you with that? If you wanted. That was bad wording, but I think you get what I mean?”   
  
“Uh. Yeah. Are you seriously -“ Pete shifts forward, looking a little unsure of what to do.    
  
“How do we - how are we gonna, like -“ Patrick suddenly doesn’t know how arms, legs, or the English language work.    
  
Joe steps closer to the couch, closer to Pete, and mumbles something like, “Like this, I guess,” before leaning in and kissing Pete.

Joe almost immediately slides his hands up Pete’s shirt, and for a minute, Patrick just has to stand and watch. They look fucking amazing, their stomachs pressing together and Pete already trying to rock his hips up against Joe’s.

Patrick’s about to go grab Joe’s ass or something when he sees the box of cookies still sitting next to Pete on the couch. He then sees that yes, Pete and Joe are both….  _ big,  _ but they’re not quite even with Patrick - yet. 

Smirking to himself, Patrick takes the box of cookies and pulls one out before climbing up onto the couch next to Pete and Joe.

“Hey,” he says quietly, voice coming out lower than he’d expected, “hey, Pete, I think you have some catching up to do here.”

As he speaks, Patrick reaches down and grabs a handful of Pete’s belly, and fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ Being out of the house this morning was the best idea Patrick’s ever had.

Pete gasps into Joe’s mouth as Patrick shakes his stomach a bit, pushing his shirt up so he can really stare. “Please, Trick, fuck,” Pete whimpers.  He has one hand digging into the chub of Joe’s back and the other is reaching for Patrick.

Patrick lets go of Pete’s belly with no small amount of reluctance before twisting his fingers into Pete’s hair and yanking his head back just enough far enough to slide the cookie into his mouth.

Pete swallows it easily, moaning around it, and then there’s only a second before the button on his jeans pops off. 

“Oh fuck,” Joe says, “ _ fuck,  _ Pete.”

Joe slips aside just enough for Patrick to move in and kiss Pete, hand still tugging at his hair, and god, Pete is a fucking amazing kisser. His hands go right to the button of Patrick’s jeans, giving Patrick’s belly a quick squeeze before getting the button undone in what’s gotta be a record time. Joe reaches for Patrick’s shirt from behind, pulling it up and off and tossing it onto the ground.

“Hey, Trick,” Pete says, breaking away from kissing Patrick just to start biting at his neck. “Can I blow you?”

“Oh my god,  _ please,”  _ Patrick says. He’s going to die, especially because he can see Joe eating another fucking cookie out of the corner of his eye. 

Pete grins as he nudges Patrick to get him to lie back on the couch (and oh god, Pete can’t actually move him, Jesus) and pulls Patrick’s pants and boxers down to his knees.   
  
“God, Patrick, your fucking thighs,” Pete says. He grabs one in each hand, fingers digging into the soft skin, and that’s when Joe steps over with a cookie in hand.    
  
Pete watches with wide eyes as Joe feeds Patrick the cookie. It goes right to his thighs, and fuck, he’s already gonna need new jeans, isn’t he.    
  
“Patrick,” Pete whines, dropping to the floor and onto his knees so that he’s face to face with Patrick’s dick. “You’re so…”   
  
“So what?” Patrick asks, because of course he knows, but Pete needs to say it.   
  
“You’re so fat,” Pete says, and his voice is breathy in a way Patrick’s never heard before. Fuck. Patrick needs his dick touched, like, ten minutes ago.    
  
So he grabs Pete’s hair again and pulls him forward, watching as his already chubby cheeks fill out even more and his nose bumps into Patrick’s stomach.    
  
“Holy shit,” Joe says, and Patrick looks up to see him sitting on the couch, twenty pounds heavier, clothes discarded, and slowly jerking himself off. Then Pete licks along the underside of Patrick’s cock, and coherent thought kind of stops working for  Patrick.    
  
He can barely see Pete past his own stomach, but his eyes are just visible, and that combined with Pete reaching up to clutch at a handful of Patrick’s ass has Patrick coming into Pete’s mouth, his entire body shaking with it.    
  
“Fuck,” Pete gasps once he’s pulled off and Patrick’s let his hair go. His voice is fucking wrecked, and god, the sight of him on his knees, his thighs serving as a wide seat for his stomach, is almost enough to get Patrick hard again. “Jesus Christ.”   
  
Pete leans forward to use Patrick’s thigh as a pillow as he and Patrick just catch their breath for a second.    
  
Then Joe scoots closer, places a hand on Pete’s shoulder, says, “I wanna fuck you, can I?”   
  
Pete immediately nods so hard that he reminds Patrick of a bobble-head doll, and then Joe’s helping him up and Patrick - cookie box in hand - is following them to the bedroom.    
  
Pete’s already on the bed, naked and on all fours, when Patrick steps through the door. He and Joe together is pretty much the hottest thing Patrick’s ever seen.    
  
Pete’s belly just brushes the sheets (Patrick can’t help but want to see it even bigger), and the way his mouth is dropped open gives him a double chin. Joe’s kneeling behind him, hand working somewhere in the vicinity of Pete’s ass and belly smushed up against Pete. The fat on his arms shakes as he moves.    
  
Joe looks up at Patrick and grins. “You know,” he says, “I don’t really think Pete’s quite caught up yet.”   
  
Pete moans, either at Joe’s words or something Joe did with his fingers - or maybe even both.    
  
“Do you want more, Pete?” Patrick asks as he walks over to sit on the bed.    
  
Pete looks torn between pushing. forwards toward Patrick or backwards toward Joe as he whines, “Please, fuck, more, I want more. Please, Joe, Patrick, fuck.”   
  
“You can have more once Joe’s fucking you,” Patrick decides.    
  
Pete whimpers, the sound high in his throat. “Please, Joe, I’m ready, I need - I need you to fuck me.”   
  
“Almost there,” Joe says, leaning down to nip softly at the back of Pete’s neck. After a moment, he pulls his fingers out and uses them to grab Pete’s belly again as he pushes in.    
  
Pete looks like he’s about to come, his face is red and flushed and fucked out, and his belly jiggles beneath him as Joe begins to thrust.    
  
“Patrick,” he gasps, “Patrick, more, please, please, please.”   
  
Patrick obliges this time, pretty much shoving the cookie past Pete’s lips. Pete groans a little, closing his eyes in what looks like absolute fucking bliss as he swallows.    
  
The change seems to happen almost differently this time, starting by rounding out Pete’s face even more and then traveling all down his body like a wave.    
  
“God, look at you, you’re so fucking fat, Pete,” Patrick says, voice filled with something like reverence. “You’re so big, I can’t believe you didn’t even notice.”   
  
“You would’ve just kept on eating until you ripped out all of your clothes, huh?” Joe adds, his hands slipping up to grab at Pete’s nipples.    
  
Pete sounds like he might be trying to say something, but all that’s coming out are hitching, desperate loans in perfect time with Joe’s thrusts.    
  
“Do you want me to jerk you off?” Patrick asks, and a loud, “Yes, fuck,” falls out of Pete’s mouth.    
  
Patrick scoots forward so he can wrap a hand around Pete’s cock, and it’s only a couple of seconds before Pete’s coming with a shout.    
  
Joe only lasts a moment after that, gasping out Pete’s name as he comes. “Fuck,” he says once he’s pulled out and pulled Pete and Patrick down into a sweaty but very comfortable cuddle pile. “Fuck, so that happened.”   
  
“That happened,” Pete repeats. He looks down at his body, like he can’t believe it’s actually real, then gives Patrick and Joe each a similar once over. “So we all really ate some fucking cursed cookies, got fat, and fucked, huh?”    
  
“Yeah,” Patrick says, “yeah, holy shit.”    
  
Joe presses a kiss to Patrick’s cheek before smirking a little and saying, “You know, we still have some cookies left.”   
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, i'd love any feedback!
> 
> this is going to be the end of this series btw but don't worry, i'm sure i'll be writing more related stuff in the future!


End file.
